Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Aspen Quinn—my rival. My fiancée. My future wife.
She gave up her control, and I gave up my freedom. She began to trust me—leaning into my dominance, giving me the chance to care for her in ways I’d forgotten I could.
Somehow, our calculated arrangement turns dangerous, deepening with every heated argument that spirals into lust.
Because the more we fight, the more our lines blur.
What began as strategy has become temptation. What I told myself was obligation now feels like surrender—and I’m standing on the edge of something I swore I’d never allow again.
Because hatred was never the opposite of desire. It was just passion turned inside out.
And now that it’s finally spilling free, I don’t know whether Aspen Quinn will be my ruin…or my salvation.
Lucian is book two in this duet. It is required to read Aspen first to fully enjoy their romance
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER 1
LUCIAN
For the third time in an hour, I looked up from the report, pretending the dry facts were to blame and not the hope of seeing Aspen walk through the door.
I should have stayed at the office, but as the minutes had ticked by, the collar of my shirt grew tighter until I had to remove my tie. Yet, I struggled to sit still, eyeing the clock in anticipation of the day’s end. By two, I gave up and headed home, promising Vic, my right-hand man, that I’d take the reports he’d collected and go over them.
When he quirked his brow, unused to me leaving early, I’d explained it away as needing a change of scenery, unwilling to admit that I was heading home so I could be here when Aspen arrived. I didn’t want to sound like I was eager to welcome her home like some loving husband—because I wasn’t. Despite having dreamed of that life before Emily doused me with a bucket of cold reality, I didn’t crave that kind of naïve domesticity anymore, like I had growing up.
No, if anything, I wanted to be here when she arrived to ensure she returned—and stayed. Not just to collect her belongings and walk out. After our argument the night before, doubts plagued me. Remembering the way I threatened to ruin her father’s retirement and steal the entire company from her if she didn’t follow through with our agreement that she would marry me to help fulfill the promise to my dying godfather. In return, I’d ensure she was able to obtain the five percent of Quinn Music Group, giving her majority control of her family company. The threat only served to add a pinch of guilt I couldn’t ignore.
Her father wouldn’t be back from his trip until later this week, but the anticipation of waiting for her to tell him—to make him believe our story—left me on edge.
In the end, being there when she got home was for the best. To ensure our interests still aligned. Not because I used to be a foolish man who dreamed of being the type of husband who greeted his wife at the door when he could. That man died fifteen years ago, taking the hope for an idyllic life with him.
I looked back at the report, confident in my reasoning for coming home early.
Then, the click of the deadbolt sliding open hammered against my chest, leaving a crack with enough room for warmth to bloom behind it. My heart beat faster with each sound of her arrival.
The slam of the door falling shut.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
The jingle of her keys being placed on the entryway table.
Thump-thump, thump-thump.
The slip of her jacket from her arms.
Thumpthump, thumpthump.
The delicate tapping steps growing closer.
Thumpthump-thumpthump-thumpthump.
Until, finally, she appeared.
Her dark hair fell over her face as she looked into the large tote bag slung over her forearm. She pushed it behind her ears, revealing her full red lip pinned under her teeth and furrowed brows. I bit back a groan, imagining biting it myself. She hadn’t noticed me yet, and I took the time to soak her in. When she placed her bag on the island, she sighed, her shoulders dropping, and I caught a glance of how exhausted she looked.
“Tired, princess?”
Aspen jumped about two feet with a high-pitched scream. Quickly followed by a slew of swear words with interesting combinations that didn’t make sense. “Is today scare-the-shit-out-of-Aspen day?” she exclaimed between gasping breaths.
I tipped my head. “You get scared a lot?”
With one hand on her chest and the other clutching the kitchen island for support, she glowered up at me. “No, I just wasn’t expecting you home this early.”
“I could say the same for you,” I said, ignoring the flood of heat at hearing her call the apartment home.
“I was done at the office and kept getting interrupted. I figured here would at least give me alone time.”
I hummed, giving her a moment to collect herself with a deep breath. “So, how was work?” I asked lightly.
Her lips curled, and brow furrowed. “Why?”
“Can’t a man ask his fiancée about her day?” I shrugged and casually glanced toward her hand, still splayed wide across her chest. “I see you kept your ring on, finally.”
She looked at the sparkling diamond as if she forgot it was there.
“Anyone notice?”
Squeezing her hand into a fist, she dropped it to her side. With another deep breath, her eyes slid closed, and she rolled her head around her neck. When she came back to center, her eyes opened with a very different look. One that set off a warning.
That warning grew to a blaring alarm when her lips tipped into a wicked smirk, and she began closing the distance with measured steps.
“As a matter of fact, someone did,” she said, full of false innocence.
“And who was that?”